


Shadows of a thief

by Blaze163



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Dark Past, Gags, Kidnapping, Knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-20 12:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20675030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaze163/pseuds/Blaze163
Summary: Ashe had thought his past life as a thief was years gone by, never to return.Of course, it had been foolish to believe something like that could just vanish. Now he may never be able to fix the mistakes of his past.





	1. Broken Dreams

The dreams, at least, had been a wonderful escape. 

Earlier that day, Byleth had come by to visit Ashe at the cathedral and had given him a small bundle of herbs he had asserted were from Lady Rhea. The professor had mentioned they were a herbal blend best suited for mixing with tea before bed to help with dreams, but Ashe had enough working knowledge of herbs to know this specific bundle was more commonly suited as an antidepressant. Given the events of the past two months, Ashe wasn't particularly surprised that the professor had singled him out to be on the receiving end of such a gift. 

"Might as well try it out, for what it's worth." He had mumbled to himself that night. Mixing the herbs with some late night tea, he had sat and sipped it for some time while perusing his notes; Byleth had changed his lesson plans from learning swords and bows to learning axes and flying, and Ashe couldn't help but guess it was at least tangentially related to their conversation about Ashe's own regret over his past life as a thief. When he had told the professor, he had noticed the color drain, just imperceptibly, from his teacher's face, and Byleth had nodded with full understanding before quickly excusing himself. Ashe was certainly grateful for the professor's change of heart, but rapidly changing focus to a completely new skillset was something of a challenge at this point. Eventually, he had grown tired of studying and let himself off early to bed, where he had quickly settled into a relatively peaceful sleep.

In his dreams, the world was much happier. As Ashe walked through his home village, his brothers and sisters ran and played around him, cheering for their brother, the famous knight. As he turned to take the scene in, his eyes stung with sudden joy as he say his own mother and father looking on, pride and joy evident in their own eyes. Rushing heedlessly to their side, Ashe quickly embraced them, tears of joy and relief running down his face instead of the recent tears of sadness and pain he had come to know the past couple of months. 

"Oh, Ashe," his mother whispered with pride "We're so proud of the man you've become."

"It may have been a hard road here," his father affirmed, "but your perseverance has always seen you through."

Ashe felt a tightness in his chest suddenly relax, and it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders. Suddenly, the realities of Lonato's death, the death of his village's militia, and even his own past as thief seemed like only vague shadows in Ashe's mind, pushed back into small corners by the positivity of his family and friends. 

Then he snapped awake to his arms being pinned roughly above his head and a firm hand being clamped over his mouth. He tried to let out a scream, but even to his own ears the sound was pathetic. Dedue, who was sleeping in the next room over, likely had absolutely no idea what was going on. As he struggled, his eyes began adjusting to the dark and he noticed a gaunt, sneering face pervading his vision. The face was familiar, that of a nobleman he recognized. Sudden thoughts ran rapid-fire through Ashe's mind. Was this an assassination attempt? No, the only person of importance who would be hurt by Ashe's death died over a month ago. Then perhaps a hostage situation? Though possible, Ashe was also probably the least likely member of his class to be negotiated over. Everyone else was either a noble or close to nobility; even Dedue, the next room over, would probably be ransomed more easily due to Prince Dimitri's close bond with him. Then the nobleman's harsh, grating voice filled the room, and Ashe's skin went cold with fear.

"I've been waiting for an opportunity like this...thief."

The name suddenly popped into Ashe's mind: Count Graftel. The man was what one would consider barely a nobleman, only earning the title due to compiling a mass amount of wealth one way or another. He was a member of Lord Lonato's territory and was often seen passing through it eliciting taxes from the people on the Kingdom's behalf. Usually the amount taken was more than what was properly needed. Given that, Ashe had never really felt guilty after stealing a rare-looking and beautiful gem he had noticed on the count's person one day and selling it to the black market for a sizeable sum that had kept his siblings well fed for well over half a year by itself. Now, looking into the count's face, all he felt was shame and fear as to what his past was going to bring upon him. Suddenly, he felt a knife press against his throat, and suddenly realized the count himself was empty handed, simply sitting back and watching the boy struggle. Of course, the overly pompous noble had needed extra help to restrain a sleeping 16 year old. 

"Scream and you're dead."

The command was harsh, emotionless, and unwavering. Ashe had no doubts that the person the voice belonged to would not hesitate to carry through with the threat. He nodded, and slowly the hand lifted. 

"What do you intend to do with me?"

The question burning at the front of his mind leapt out of his mouth before he even considered it. The nobleman grinned evilly, reaching behind his back to grab...something? Ashe is still groggy and can't really make sense of everything yet.

"I intend to take you back to Faerghus, you impetuous brat. There we'll wait and see if you've managed to ingratiate yourself enough to your classmates here to sufficiently pay me back for what you stole from me."

That, as much, Ashe had expected. He hadn't, however, expected a cloth covered hand to clamp over his mouth suddenly as the count drew a dagger from behind his back and stabbed it just below Ashe's right collarbone, between his neck and shoulder. The cloth and hand sufficiently covered what would have been a piercing howl of pain from Ashe, whose vision had turned white with pain. He could barely register the voice whispering next to his ear: 

"But your theft is only the tip of the iceberg. You had the insolence to act against me, and then the nerve to coddle yourself to the lord of the realm and dream to become a knight. I'll knock you down a peg, thief. On that matter, you can mark my words."

Ashe couldn't register his words, not really. All of a sudden, his mind was becoming rather numb, and the voices grew farther and farther away. As unconsciousness overtook him, however, he did manage one thought that intruded even into his dreams. Plaguing his thoughts with doubt and shame.

"This is just what I deserve."


	2. Shadows closing in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe begins to struggle, mentally and physically, and Graftel reveals his true intentions.

Ashe had been claustrophobic ever since was young, much younger than he was now. Back when he had just begun thieving, he had gotten caught early on trying to grab a rather pompous-looking lady’s plump purse. He had been discovered and apprehended by the woman’s husband and subsequently turned in to the town guard, who were still in the early workings of forming. From there he had been taken to the prison house, a small little building with only a few holding cells. Upon witnessing the cells full of drunkards, assaulters, and some larger-scale felons awaiting higher trial, the guards had at least had the presence of mind to not throw a child into a cell with the rest. Ashe had reasoned that the guards meant well, but their poor training and general lack of common sense had led them to make the decision to place the petty thief into a utility closet used for storage. The room was cramped, dark, and barely breathable; this was the where Ashe had his first ever panic attack. It wasn’t long before a flurry of thoughts had overwhelmed him: his siblings, already hungry when he had left, slowly wasting away; the guards, absentminded and busy, forgetting him there; the air, already feeling stale and uncomfortable, becoming unbreathable; the walls, dark and unseen, closing in on him; and, perhaps least at the forefront of his mind was his own hunger, feeling like it was tearing his stomach in two.  
It had taken Ashe some time to build up the courage to yell for as much as light and food, which the guards graciously provided immediately. The matter of visiting his siblings to provide for them as well was another matter of the guard’s trust and, not knowing what to do, they left the matter for the captain to decide when he returned from a mission from out of town. It had been late in the night when the captain returned; the moment he learned of Ashe’s presence he pulled the boy out of the closet to watch as he berated his men furiously for their mistreatment of a minor, albeit one who was a petty thief. He sent Ashe along back home with provisions to last a few weeks, asking the boy only to promise not to turn to thieving ever again. As he had gratefully left the prison house and brought food ever closer to his family’s smiling faces, Ashe had almost thought he would hold to the promise.  
Almost.  
Now he wished more than anything he had stuck to that promise. The moment the nearly day long trip to the Count’s…abode, for lack of a better term, had ended, Ashe had been escorted towards the back of the abode into a dark, cramped, and windowless room with two rafters hanging across the low ceiling. In the room was simply a stool and a change of clothing, which Ashe recognized bitterly as the uniform for a specific division of the Kingdom common militia: the division of those specializing in the class of thieves. The message Count Graftel was sending with this couldn’t be more blatant, and the nobleman himself made it clear that Ashe was to change into this uniform. He excused himself to give Ashe some privacy, at least, though Ashe still felt uncomfortable making the change in a foreign place. The thief’s sleeveless and deep-cut shirt did not adapt well to Faerghus weather, and Ashe was already shivering as the Count re-entered the room. Without a word, his wrists had been brought up (rather painfully at this point, with the wound in his shoulder) and lashed to the rafter above. The count then announced he had business to attend to before leaving Ashe in care of the guards, which had led to Ashe’s big mistake of the day: trying to escape.  
After letting some time pass, he had complained to the guard about his shoulder, which was really hurting quite a lot, and begged for just a little bit of reprieve. The soldier, a good-natured man at heart, had agreed and had let Ashe’s arms go by his side, only to be rewarded by a sharp blow to the stomach by Ashe’s elbow as the boy scrambled out of the room and took off down the hallway to the front exit. He didn’t make it halfway down before two guards rounded the corner in front of him and caught him with, quite ironically, a blow to the stomach. Now he was in exactly the same position as before, except now his ankles were also tied and a cloth had been stuffed into his mouth and secured with another cloth tied around his head. Ashe rolled his eyes at himself, almost unsurprised at the fact that he was only succeeding in making things worse for himself at this point.  
At this point the Count entered back in, apparently done with his morning proceedings and quite annoyed looking at Ashe.  
“Your shoulder really is beginning to look quite appalling.” Ashe hadn’t even had a good chance to look at the wound since he had arrived, but he did know that a day’s carriage ride through a damp and cold kingdom followed by a few hours of solitude in a damp, cold, and moldy cell were likely not doing it any favors. The thought was interrupted by a familiarly sharp, blinding pain, though this time the spot of entry was the outside of his left thigh. This wound felt much deeper than the last one, though, and it was some time before the count withdrew his dagger.  
“Day Two” He commented simply. “Your friends are not moving quite yet, but my men have noticed messengers from Garreg Mach traveling to the corners of the Kingdom. Specifically, to Gautier, Galatea, Fraldarius, and Dominic territory. So far, it seems your friends are acting quite predictably.”  
The pain hasn’t passed enough for Ashe to really grasp what the count is saying, but it doesn’t sound very good from what he does gather. He can’t exactly communicate confusion, so he does his best to give a questioning glare.  
“Do you really not understand what’s going on here? Or maybe…you don’t even understand what you stole from my wares? It wouldn’t surprise me, really.”

Ashe tried to think back to his theft from the nobleman. He remembered it was some kind of gem; a golden, shining piece of jewelry, perhaps to be worn as an ornate necklace or bracelet, bound by royal blue and gold cords that framed it magnificently. The woman he had sold it to at the market had been astounded by its worth, offering a sum he later learned was near equal to…oh no.  
“So some gears do turn in that filthy head. The item you stole from me was a damned Hero’s relic, boy. The priceless Rafail Gem, thought to be lost in the fall of House Martitz. I had acquired it off some poor old man in exchange for some tax exemption, and quite honestly I found it to be a steal. I could have sold it to the black market myself, or to House Bartles, who had a member more than willing to use it. I even heard rumors of a woman of the church with a compatible crest, and I know the church’s hunger for power and innate wealth would have seen me profit.”  
Graftel’s face turned red with rage. “And then it was gone. Missing, by the hands of some petty thief who didn’t even know its worth. And what’s more, it went into the Empire’s hands afterwards, and remains there to this day.” He now took a deep breath, and a smile filled his face. “Luckily, now the Empire has commissioned me with a task I am more than happy to fulfill. A powerful noble of the Empire seems to be working some machination behind the scenes, and a primary goal of his is to defang the likes of Faerghus nobles. I was offered a position of power upon my success, and I can’t say I failed to see the opportunity for a bit of my own revenge. Those messengers are going to request the treasured Relics of the Faerghus nobility, and they will bring them all right to my doorstep. I wonder,” he said, rising gleefully from his position, “how it feels to be so loved by the nobility that they will bring their kingdom to ruin for your sake. That prince must be truly desperate not to have ‘innocent’ blood on his hands.”  
Ashe winced at the pain of the count’s words. It was true, Dimitri was far too softhearted to simply let him die without even an attempt at rescue. But this plan…it had to be obvious to him, or to any of the other members of the Blue Lions what the outcome would be. Faerghus would be the most vulnerable it had ever been and all…all because Ashe had been a fool in the past, and careless in the present. Shame and guilt overwhelmed him now, and he could feel the tears stinging his eyes and rolling down his face. The count looked on, no trace of sympathy in his eyes.  
“When they come to ransom you, I have no intentions on reneging on my word. You will see as your own foolishness and desire to coddle to those you have no business befriending leads to the downfall of the Kingdom. And when all is over, you will be the one all shall blame.” The nobleman walked out of the room and shut the door, sealing Ashe into a cold, dark, and miserable chamber.  
“Sleep on that if you can, thief.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? I added a chapter and then changed chapter order? Why, yes I did, because things make more sense this way. Sorry if that makes things confusing, but I messed up the order when I was arranging things and it just really do be like that sometimes.


	3. Lily in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions work to help their friend, and Byleth begins creating a bold plan.

The morning had been a bit of a wild ride, all things considered. Breakfast had started off a bit rough, with an argument between Dimitri and Byleth. When Ashe hadn't arrived in time for morning breakfast, Dimitri had attempted to go drag him out of bed, forcing Byleth's intervention. At first, he had simply tried to assuage Dimitri, but he had insisted that after Ashe's loss he needed to spend time with others in order to help his own mental and emotional recovery. Byleth had reluctantly been forced to tell Dimitri about fulfilling a request from Rhea to give Ashe some herbs to help him cope, which had fostered another argument about proper dosage, safety requirements, medication of minors, and a whole slew of other issues throughout not only the whole class, but the Eagles and Deer as well. Byleth suspected Claude took joy out of providing particularly controversial opinions when the conversations seemed like they were starting to lull. After painstaking effort, Byleth had managed to get the class into their actual classroom, where Ashe still had yet to make an appearance. This time, Dimitri did not ask Byleth's permission, and instead excused himself to go awake their classmate. Byleth had just managed to get the classroom under control when Dimitri came roaring in, a piece of paper clutched tight in his hand and spewing garbled gibberish from his mouth. 

"Dimitri, calm down. Take a couple deep breaths and start again."

The class was on tenterhooks now, every member frozen in petrified silence. Despite his attempts to maintain a calm exterior, internally Byleth's mind was reeling. Had he really been mistaken to give Ashe the herbs? Did they have some side effect that induced something resembling a coma when taken before bed? Were they poisoned before being given to the archbishop and Ashe was an unsuspecting casualty in the most poorly thought out attempt on Rhea's life in the past month?

Regaining his breath, Dimitri started anew. 

"Ashe has been taken. He's not in his room, and there's blood on his sheets and obvious signs of a struggle. To top it all off, the kidnapper left a note demanding ransom. The amount requested is...quite absurd."

As Byleth took the note in his hand, the classroom exploded in a frenzy of questions and assertions overlapping each other.

"Blood? Was it bad? How much was there?"

"How could they have slipped by so easily?"

"Did they say where to meet them? We could ambush them if need be."

"Are we sure he's even alive at this point?"

"QUIET!"

This from Byleth, glaring furiously at Felix, who had made the previous comment in his usual flat and sarcastic tone. The boy shrugged.

" I thought it a fair question."

Dimitri raised his voice now in an authoritative tone, likely attempting to keep everyone in line.

"The blood on the sheets wasn't much; he's certainly injured, but the wound was likely not a grievous one. The note said that they would be keeping him in Faerghus, close to Lord Lonato's territory. They even wrote out a map."

Annette jumped forward eagerly now, her face contorted in anger. "Then let's get the knights of Seiros and-"

"How foolish," Felix interrupted, though with a surprisingly gentler tone, "If this nobleman was able to easily slip by the guards and remove a student from the monastery's premise, he likely has a working network of spies and information. If the knights of Seiros mobilize, he'll be able to get rid of any incriminating evidence easily before they arrive."

The implication in his words made the room quiet with solemn realization. Reading over the note again, Dimitri suddenly seemed to come to a realization. 

"Hold a moment. Ingrid, does your father still have your family's heirloom?"

"Luin? Yes, he should still be in possession. Why?"

Dimitri considered the letter. "Taking my family's heirloom into consideration as well, and taking the Aegis Shield, Lance of Ruin, and Crusher..."

Felix scowled at the mention of his family's heirloom. "What's on your mind, boar? Speak up so the rest of us can hear."

Dimitri blushed slightly. "I was made aware some time ago of a black market running in Fhirdiad. They take all kinds of weapons for a sum. Hero's Relics, if they're ever brought to the table, are worth about 40,000 gold apiece. The sum mentioned here is 200,000 gold. Exactly enough if we sell all the heirlooms."

The astounded silence spoke for itself.

"Your Highness, with all due respect, that 's a terrible idea. Who knows what could-"

"I won't let someone else die by my carelessness" Dimitri growled. "Not ever again."

"I understand what you mean, Dimitri" Ingrid replied with sympathy, "but think things through. This count obviously intends for us to walk this path. His demands can't be reasonable unless we do this. The exact sum being what our relics would amount to is-"

Sylvain let out a low whistle. "That can't be a coincidence. Sorry to say though, that plan won't work."

Byleth grimaced in agreement. Currently, the knights of Seiros were cornering Miklan's group of bandits explicitly due to the fact that Miklan had grabbed the Lance of ruin from House Gautier. 

"We could always ask Rhea to move up our mission and-"

"No. The Knights can't even have a hint of what's going on."

Byleth slammed his hand down. "All things considered, I'd rather not just give this guy what he wants. Be that as it may, I have something I think we can do without sacrificing all of the Kingdom's Hero's Relics."

Dimitri smiled with mild surprise. "I should have expected as much, Professor. Very well. What plans do you have for us now?"

Byleth shook his head now.

"Sorry, but for this to work only certain people need to know certain things. Ingrid," he directed, motioning to the blonde knight, "I need you and Sylvain to go to the Cathedral and ask Alois for a coffer."

Ingrid seemed taken aback, but played along. 

"Sure, but what if he-"

"If he gives you any trouble, tell him I asked and that it's a Lily in the woods situation. He'll get it. Annette," he motioned now to the redhead, "You and Mercedes pester Hanneman and Manuela for anything they have that even looks valuable. Tell them we'll have it returned by the end of the month and that it's urgent." 

The two nodded their heads in unison and left the classroom, for once, without a word between them.

"Felix and Dimitri, I need you two to organize our inventory and get us a carriage to bring the coffer in. We're leaving as soon as we have everything."

Without even commenting about working with the boar, Felix left with Dimitri quick behind. Soon, all that was left was Dedue, looking shamefacedly at the ground.

"I let them take him."

Byleth groaned internally. He had known this was probably going to happen, but wish it didn't.

"Dedue, these were trained soldiers who probably watched the monastery for months to get the timing right. I doubt they made a noise through the whole process. You shouldn't-"

"What if those were assassins after Prince Dimitri? He would be dead and I without purpose."

Byleth slammed his hand against the Duscur student's desk.

"Dedue, if you want to train to protect Dimitri, do that once this is over. This is about Ashe. If you want to protect him, follow me."

And with that, Byleth turned and exited the classroom, making his way towards the Grand Hall. He could sense Dedue following close behind, and was grateful to get the young man's mind out of a slump. Turning a corner, they began to ascend up to the teacher's headquarters and crossed the main hall, finally stopping at the Captain's Quarters where Byleth knocked three times.

"...Yeah?"

The door creaked open slowly to reveal Jeralt's still-groggy face. 

"Oh, hey, kiddo. Ya need something? Sorry, I just got back from patrolling the cathedral for my morning shift. I'm dead exhausted." His eyes moved slowly towards Dedue. "This Duscur kid beat you in a fistfight and you need me to bring him down to size?"

"No, dad. I need you to help me teach him Lily in the woods."

Jeralt's eyes narrowed at the name of the maneuver. "A Lily in the woods, huh? Must be important for something like that. Who?"

Byleth's eyes narrowed. "You don't need to know."

"I can keep a secret."

"You planning on hitting the tavern soon?"

"Alois will keep me honest."

"I don't trust either of you drunk."

"I could probably guess without you telling."

"Please don't."

Jeralt scrunched his face up in thought. "Let's see, I saw Ingrid and Sylvain pass by as I made my way from the cathedral. Annette approached me as I was passing the stairs, but immediately turned around and left. That leaves-"

"STOP."

The command had gown much lower than Byleth intended upon exiting his throat, and it resembled more a growl than a demand. His face immediately flushed red and he mumbled an apology while looking away. Jeralt, for his part, looked at his child, dumbfounded.

"You really care for those little brats, huh."

Byleth nodded solemnly, and Jeralt responded with a curt nod of his own. 

"All right, then, training for Lily in the woods starts now. Come on, big guy, we got work to do."

As his father led Dedue down to the training grounds, Byleth took a moment to breathe, and his mind drifted to his missing student.

"Please, Ashe, just hang in there a little longer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, yes, this is the new chapter three. The newer stuff is the new chapter two because I made an error in compiling my stuff before I formatted it and submitted it. I am truly ashamed, may I be cursed to write bad fanfiction for the rest of my days, etc. All joking aside, sorry if this is at all confusing, I just thought it would make the story mesh a bit better and make more sense overall.


	4. Burning Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe has a one-on-one conversation with the count, and learns that maybe his future isn't as hopeless as he thought.

Ashe most certainly did not sleep well; neither that night, nor the following morning, nor the entire following day or even that night. This was in part due to his frantic worries about his friends possibly walking headfirst into a trap that could ruin an entire country, as well as his own concerns for his safety and well-being. It was also in part because every couple of hours a couple of guards, apparently different each time, would come in and use Ashe as a punching bag until they were satisfied and left him alone. It certainly didn’t help that Count Graftel came in the afternoon and made his own mark- a mercifully shallow yet painfully long slice diagonally along Ashe’s back- only commenting “Day 3” before leaving. And the bitter cold, stiffening his shoulder to the point of immobility and causing him to shiver constantly with no way of getting any warmth, was its own factor. It was the morning of what Count Graftel called the fourth day, though isolated from any way of understanding the passage of time Ashe could only take the deceptive nobleman’s word for it, which was certainly of no help to his mental state. He was hungry. Incredibly, unbearably hungry. A muffled laugh escaped his lips as he deliriously wondered if the flies gathering around his shoulder were better fed than he was at this point.

That probably wasn’t a healthy thought to have.

Presently, the door opened and in entered the count, dagger in hand like usual. This time, there was no façade or distraction. Graftel walked straight up to the boy and slammed the dagger into the rafter, directly where Ashe’s hands overlapped each other. He was too exhausted to cry out or protest. He only flinched in surprise when the blood dripped down onto his nose and let out a muffled groan of annoyance.

“Spare me.” The count took a seat on the stool on the other side of the room and massaged his head, suddenly looking very tired. “I’m not some pitying noble who will simply overlook the wrong you’ve done in your life. You proved yourself two months ago, even if I had any hesitation; you bite the hand that feeds without a second thought just to get what you want, don’t you?”

Ashe felt his face flush with anger at the words, though he couldn’t quite deny them. He hadn’t intended to really, he hadn’t. It all came flashing back, in an instant. Ashe, racing to beg Lonato to lay down his arms. Dimitri, trying to end the conflict quickly for the citizen’s sake. Lonato raising his spear to Dimitri, intent on striking the prince down. Ashe reacted, nocking an arrow before he realized what he was doing, aiming, and firing a final shot-

He hadn’t realized was crying. The count sneered at him again, but this time it seemed weaker to Ashe. 

“It’s Day four, by the way. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know your friends have left Garreg Mach. The messengers are returning from the corners of the Kingdom and seem to be directed to meet them a few miles from here. I suspect you’ll see your freedom tomorrow morning. I must say, that is certainly a bit earlier than I was expecting, or hoping.”

Ashe was most happy to know that, but struggled to keep a neutral face so the nobleman wouldn’t catch on to the reason. If there was one thing his time with Lonato had taught him, it was that the nobility didn’t make a single decision “quickly”. The count’s plan would have been close if any realistic process of consideration was taken by any of the noble families; not to mention, Miklan was still out there and still had the Lance of Ruin. That could only mean one thing: his friends had come up with a plan. And if that was the case-

“Don’t forget what that means for you, thief.” Graftel continued, “You’re still responsible for what happens to the Kingdom once it loses its rarest weapons. Can you still claim joy from that?” A moment’s pause, and suddenly the cloth was pulled from his mouth and Ashe was finally able to spit the ball of cloth out. Stalling to get his emotions under control, Ashe worked his jaw around a little bit in a display of getting used to feeling close to normal. It wasn’t hard, even as he moved his mouth open and shut, it ached with the reprieve of finally being able to move. Finally, he felt he was ready to respond. 

“You know I can’t just let the relics of the kingdom leave. If I have to sacrifice my life, I’ll find a way.”

Graftel sighed to himself. “And thank you ever so much for reminding me to keep you from being an active part of negotiations in any way or form. I’m not interested in hearing your intentions. Don’t you feel even a bit of joy at that?”

The thought flashed through his mind: Somehow, they have a plan. They’ll work things out. They’ll be able to fix everything you messed up on. Ashe couldn’t help a small smile of relief cross his lips.

“Goddess, thank you. I had begun to wonder if there was any trace of your craven self left inside you.” The count leaned back against the stool, lost in thought once more. “I could do whatever I wished to you before you met, you know. I could burn you, or I could cut you.” The count whipped out his dagger once more and reached his other hand under Ashe’s jaw, prying it painfully open with the bruises from the soldier’s beatings. After a brief but fruitless struggle, he grabbed Ashe’s tongue and pulled it, deaf to the boy’s frantic grunts of fear, bringing the knife against the soft flesh. “I could cut out your tongue or eye, or do even worse. The noble paused for a moment, then released the tongue. “But the truth is, I don’t know if I want to do it. It’s strange, I hated you for years for your actions, but the more I spend time with you, the more I wonder…bah.” He looked away for a moment, then back, curiosity in his eyes.

“Tell me, thief. Do you hate me?”

Ashe was taken aback by the question.

“…what?”

“Do you hate me? I threaten your country with my schemes. I torture you in various ways. I kidnapped you from safety and comfort and made you endure a week of hell.” A week. So there was a discrepancy between the days the nobleman was giving and the actual passage of time.

“And all that I have done is in the present, not the past. Speaking truly, you have more a right to hate me than I to hate you. So tell me. What do you feel?”

Ashe considered the question honestly. He knew he probably should hate the count. He was a miserable man even before being stolen from, and he had only worsened in time. He was likely not above murder and torture to achieve what he wanted, and took pleasure in harming others. By all accounts, he was a despicable man. And yet…that look on his face that conveyed such confusion and hopelessness and conflict…something about it…

“I don’t know,” Ashe admitted, “I don’t know if I hate you or feel sorry for you. After all, the reason you’re in this position is even my fault. Blame is only an endless circle that only leaves people empty of anything in life. But when I see you…”his shoulders slumped, and he felt a dull throb as his shoulder ached. “I don’t know.”

“Typical.” The nobleman scoffed. His face was more conflicted than it had ever been. 

Ashe tried his luck.

“You don’t have to go through with this, you know. If you let me go tomorrow and show you mean no harm, I’m sure my friends will-“

“You misunderstand my convictions, thief,” Graftel snarled, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. In an instant the cloth had been stuffed back into Ashe’s mouth and secured, even tighter than before.

“I have no qualms about what I am doing, nor about my feelings about you. Whether or not I wish to, I cannot help but hate you, petty as it may be. And I will only be satisfied when I see you witness the Kingdom crumble. Never before.” 

The count began to stride out of the room, and as he exited, two soldiers entered carrying a small box and a stick in each hand. No, not sticks. The tips glowed white-hot, and Ashe’s heart sank. They were pokers.

“This is the thief’s last night here. Tomorrow morning his friends will be here to receive him. Do with him what you wish. That is all.” With that, the count left the room, leaving Ashe to face only the ends of the pokers. He closed his eyes shut and forced himself to take deep breaths, even as his world dissolved into a haze of pure white pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, all! Be warned, next chapter will be the longest of the bunch, and possibly the most disturbing. Still nothing truly gory or M/E rated, but it'll be a bit more intense.


	5. Light of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions arrive for a rescue mission as Ashe's condition worsens.

Ashe’s thoughts were a blurry, unfocused haze for the rest of the day and night. Every now and then, a series of garbled words and intentions tried to form a coherent purpose, but they were lost in the dense fuzz that seemed to be growing in his mind. At the very least, he wasn’t hungry or cold anymore. In fact, by the time he was mercifully able to slip into an uncomfortable rest in the early hours of the following morning, he felt both warm and dry, which was a good…sign…right…? For some reason, that didn’t sound right, but he couldn’t consider it before he drifted off.

He was woken by the door to his cell slamming open. Two guards walked in, neither of whom said a single word. One knelt down to Ashe’s ankles, while the other reached up to the rafter where his hands were tied. His arms were finally, thankfully released from their position, and Ashe realized dully that his hands had turned a bruised purple color from being tied above his head for so long. That was probably why he had felt nothing when they had been stabbed before. For some reason the thought was funny to him, and he giggled delusionally. The guard taking care of his ankles looked up with something resembling concern before resuming his own task. Meanwhile, the guard working on his arms had crossed and bound his arms behind his back, securing each wrist to the opposite elbow. Though his shoulder was stiff, he felt no pain. Again, he felt a brief moment of relief before wondering once more if that possible wasn’t a good thing. He looked down and realized that his feet, also bruised a purplish hue, were allowed a bit more freedom now, tied loosely so he could take unsteady steps, but not run. Not the he could likely have done so anyways, as the first use of his feet caused his legs to buckle as he slammed into the cell floor. The guard securing his ankles apologized, and even offered his arm for Ashe to lean on as he was escorted out of the cell. Again, he had to resist the urge to giggle and nothing that was particularly funny about the situation. He heard voices down the hall, ebbing in and out of focus. He could definitely recognize the count’s voice, but also…was that the professor? And Dimitri? 

Ashe leaned forward slightly, almost lurching forward before remembering his precarious situation at the present. He begrudgingly forced himself to stay calm, and instead directed his attention to a passing mirror. Which was a mistake. The face looking back at him was hardly recognizable. His eyes were black from beatings and swollen from sleep deprivation. His skin was flushed horribly, and pale beneath that rosy rush. His nose was slightly bent and bloody, and his shoulder…Ashe retched and turned away. His shoulder was swollen horribly, bulging the neckline of his shirt with disgusting mass. The extra mass itself was colored horribly, colors Ashe was certain skin was never supposed to be. His suspicions about his current condition were confirmed when he turned the corner. As the guard supporting him lowered his head and retreated to a near corner of the room, there was no “Ashe!” or “I’m happy to see you’re safe!” or “Thank the goddess you’re all right.” The room cut into dead silence as the Blue Lions beheld their classmate. Annette let out a small gasp of horror and brought her hand to her mouth, and Byleth turned to the count, fury in his eyes.

“You managed this in the span of a single week? What have you even done to him?”

As the Lions overcame their shock, Ashe noticed as they began to face the room with much more hostility. An unsettling look had crossed over Dimitri’s face as he scowled at the count alongside Byleth, and Felix’s usual scowl had deepened considerably as well. Dedue had even taken a step forward before remembering himself and was now scanning the room. Only Mercedes was still looking at Ashe, her eyes scanning his every mark and wound. She was preparing herself, Ashe realized.

“You must be aware, professor, that this young thief has brought me my own share of trouble in the past. I simply felt entitled to carry out my vengeance. I promise, I was kinder than the nobles of the Empire are wont to be. No lasting harm will come to him…if this is all finished quickly that is.” Byleth’s eyes narrowed.

“Then hand him over quickly, and we can resume this process.” The count’s eyes glinted dangerously, but he spread his arms in a wide gesture, almost symbolizing compliance.

“Ah, but professor! You haven’t even allowed me a proposition!”

“A…what?”

Ashe felt his head pull backwards as the remaining guard grabbed his hair with one hand and pull back, exposing his neck as he slipped a blade in front of it.

“Ashe!” Ingrid yelped and leapt forward, but was caught quickly by Sylvain, who whispered something into her ear before releasing her.

“What you may not know, professor, is that my planning so far has allowed me the location of a missing relic. One that originates from the Empire’s stronger families, I might add. I simply believed one of your students,” he said this motioning to Mercedes, “might be interested. I’m willing to allow you to return back to Faerghus with your Kingdom relics, and even collude with you to retrieve a power that could grant…fortune. Esteem. High standing with noble families. In fact, it could grant more power to Faerghus itself.” The noble grinned sympathetically, directing his attention to Dimitri. 

“As a matter of fact, the Empire family that contacted me has been working many machinations in all three territories of Fodlan. It would not surprise me if they had information about…well, nearly any major event occurring in the past few years. It’s possible they may have answers to important questions you’re asking.” The young prince’s eyes clouded. For a moment, the room was deathly still and Dimitri seemed to be battling something deep within himself. Then, he shut his eyes tight and shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of some pestering presence. 

“No.” The voice was a grumble, a strained one, as though he had just given away something precious. “I will not walk my path this way. I can’t sacrifice someone for my own goals…as desperate as they are.” He looked at Ashe, pain deep set in his eyes. “That’s not the way for Faerghus. That’s not the way for me.” Graftel’s mouth tightened slightly.

“I see. And what of you, Mercedes? I’m sure the treasure of your house’s relic would be-“

“Oh, I think you’ve got me all wrong, Your Lordship.” Ashe had never seen Mercedes look angry or insulted before, but the sight was mildly terrifying. The words she spoke were still polite, but any hint of kindness in her tone was gone. “I’m not interested in power or popularity or any of that, really. I just want to work for the goddess…and my friends. So as your offer,” She smiled sweetly, and held up her hand in a soft rejection, “that will be the easiest offer to reject I’ve gotten from a noble. And that’s saying quite a lot.” Ashe saw Sylvain and Ingrid smirk behind her.

“I see.” The count’s face darkened in a brooding grimace. He turned to Byleth, now completely businesslike. “Professor, the Relics, if you please.”

Byleth crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Not until you release the hostage. You stand more to lose from all of this, so don’t expect to have room to negotiate.”

And yet, the count was poised to protest even before Byleth ended his last sentence. Dizzied, Ashe scanned the room for something else to focus on. Most of the Lions were tensed around the coffer, seeming ready for a fight. Ashe noticed green magic beginning to curl around Annette’s fingers. Either that or he was hallucinating. Mercedes had resumed studying Ashe, her eyes flitting back and forth. Dedue was…Ashe recoiled slightly, or at least as much as he could in that position. Dedue was currently holding conversation with a guard, taking out the jewelry in his ear to offer the guard who had been carrying Ashe. Ashe shook his head, confounded. He was definitely hallucinating. At this point, the room had grown deathly still as the two negotiators looked at each other in fury. 

“I demand one more time, Professor. You will at least show me the full contents of the coffer so I can confirm you brought me my payment. This is my final offer, or the hostage dies. What is your response?”  
The room quieted as the professor paused. The pause lengthened into uncomfortable silence as the count held his hands behind his back in anticipation. Ashe felt a shock as he realized his professor was trying to read the room, and seemed to be struggling. Suddenly, he caught a signal from the count: two fingers, crossed over each other in an “x”. No sooner was the signal made than the guard currently holding Ashe flicked his blade back. For a moment, Ashe wondered what had happened, then felt a dull, thin line of pain cross his throat. He tried to say something, but could only choke a little as something filled it, and suddenly everything was fading. He could only hear a distant scream as everything faded to black.

Ashe gasped and lurched forward slightly, and the guard holding him grunted as he tried to keep Ashe from cutting his own throat. He blinked and looked around the room. What had just happened? How long had he…?

“I demand one more time, Professor. You will at least show me the full contents of the coffer so I can confirm you brought me my payment. This is my final offer, or the hostage dies. What is your response?”

What? Ashe blinked hard, trying to make sense of everything. Byleth, for his part, seemed to be staring the count straight in the eyes, though his skin seemed slightly pale. Time passed, and the count held his hands behind his back in anticipation. Ashe felt a sense of dread overwhelm him, but just as it happened, Byleth leaned forward. With all the smooth confidence of Sylvain wooing a girl at the monastery, Byleth cooed,

“Goddess take me, but this firelight does wonders for your eyes. Once this filthy business is done, why not go out for something more befitting a noble of your status? Just the two of us, alone.” 

The count recoiled now, his eyes darting to the students to pick up any trace of deception. Indeed, all the Blue Lions seemed adequately flummoxed, though Sylvain seemed to have a slight glimmer of admiration mixed in. The guards around the room seemed thrown off as well, the one holding Ashe loosening his grip on his hair and dropping his knife by his side.

No sooner had Ashe noticed the knife was gone than he felt a giant force slam into him and the guard, knocking them both to the ground. The knife slid well away, and Dedue wasted no time in picking Ashe up from the ground, tearing the gag away from his mouth. 

“Are you hurt?”  
This said as the Duscur giant shifted his grip, awakening all kinds of pain in Ashe’s shoulder, thigh, back, and hands all at once. The boy grit his teeth and tried to not scream in pain.

“Yes, very, Dedue, thank you.”

Dedue simply grimaced, holding Ashe close to his chest and bending over, almost completely covering Ashe from the fight now breaking out all across the parlor. Ashe could feel some impacts as the giant rushed through the fray, but thankfully nothing awakened more pain. He was deposited quickly enough in front of a now empty coffer, which had been tipped over. Spilling out of it were a thin layer of trinkets and baubles, just enough to cover an array of weapons that had been hiding underneath. The rest of the Lions were spread around the room, forming a protective circle around the coffer, and now Ashe. 

“Mercedes!” 

The healer turned at her name being called and, casting one more well-aimed fireball, made her way over to Ashe’s side, trading places with Dedue. Ashe groaned with relief as white magic pooled from Mercedes’ hands, washing over his back, hands, torso, and face. After briefly inspecting his thigh, Mercedes waved her hand over it and the healing magic began its work on it as well. But now was the part neither had been looking forward to. 

“Ashe, you might want to look away from this. I doubt it will be pleasant.”

Ashe nodded and directed his attention to the fight, allowing Mercedes to begin work on his shoulder. Ahead of them, Byleth and Dedue were handling the front lines alongside Felix, taking any soldiers pouring in from across the abode. A fair few seemed to be simply surrendering, and was relieved to see the guard who had supported him among those few. Annette was on Ashe’s right, loosing small gusts of wind alongside sweeping gales Ashe had never seen before, rending the enemy forces apart. Sylvain and Ingrid fought back to back alongside her, handling enemies coming in close. Ashe craned his neck to see Dimitri’s corner, then just as quickly looked away. If there was a memory worth forgetting from this whole ordeal, the sight of the prince now was probably it. Unfortunately, he turned his eyes back to Mercedes. She had stripped away large portions of the dead skin around his shoulder, but the wound itself seemed to be leaking fluids of nasty colors. He felt incredibly queasy just looking at it. Shaking her head with frustration, Mercedes flicked her hand, and unaffected parts of his shoulder began to mend. 

“I’m sorry Ashe, that’s all I can do here. Please, hang on until we can get back to the monastery.”

Hang on? How bad was it? Ashe shook his head, suddenly exceedingly exhausted. Mercedes was saying something more, but everything was fading quickly. Senselessness overcame him, and the world faded once more.

*

A harsh bump in the road woke Ashe up with a shout, startling his classmates. 

“Sorry, Ashe, I didn’t see the bump coming.” Ingrid called from the front of the carriage. Ashe looked around, thoroughly confused. Sylvain seemed about to ask something, but now looked at him with worry in his eyes. 

“Are you okay, Ashe? We never got a read on what happened back there.”

Ashe winced at the initial memories springing into his head, and shook his head. “I…I’ll survive. Please, I’d rather not think about it. What were you going to ask?”

Sylvain pursed his lips, clearly worried. “All right. Whatever you say.” He turned the professor now, his voice much softer than usual. “As I was gonna ask, professor, what is plan ‘Lily in the Woods’ anyways? Seemed more like a pretty way to pickup girls than anything else.”

Byleth shook his head, suddenly embarrassed.  
“Lily in the Woods isn’t anything special, really. It’s just a technique my father created back in his academy days.” He leaned back now, his eyes glistening at the memory at the tale. “His class was assigned to take on a hostage situation in the Empire. They developed the strategy based off two principles. It assumes there’s someone in the group has second thoughts, and that the person in control can be caught off guard. When I heard our kidnapper was a nobleman who paid for his army, I knew it was the perfect plan.” He motioned to Dedue. “It requires someone to be able to interact with the enemy; honestly, that was the hardest part of preparation,” he added jokingly. “They have to find a way to get close to the hostage so the negotiator can spring the trap. All the negotiator needs to do is find something to say that catches people off guard enough to let the rescuer take the hostage back. For my dad, that had been drawing attention to a lily, growing right next to the kidnapper in the forest.” His eyes darkened slightly, something painful in his eyes. 

“It’s an easy job, really.”

Ashe almost asked what it was that was bothering his professor, but he felt another choking around his chest. The world leaned and suddenly he was coughing violently. He raised his hand up and saw there was already blood on it. 

That wasn’t good. 

As his consciousness faded for the second-or was it third?-time that day, he felt soft arms catch him, felt himself laid gently across something soft, felt himself slip away back into a world of unfeeling, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to be there or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to end this fic in a fluffy feel good way and I accidentally leave the next to last chapter on a bad cliffhanger oopsie. I hope I can make up for it in promises that there's a payoff here. FLUFF AND GOOD FEELINGS INCOMING!


	6. Healing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manuela tends to Ashe's wounds, and Dimitri decides to do something special.

The rest of the trip to the monastery was incredibly tense. Nobody spoke a word, but all were trading glances between each other, Ashe’s sleeping body resting on a cloak Dimitri had laid out for him, and Mercedes, who was constantly pulling things out of her bag and analyzing them before jotting down notes on a sheet of parchment. Before the group had left the count’s manor, Mercedes had asked to see the cells Ashe had been kept in for medical purposes.

“I need to see every aspect of the conditions Ashe was kept in, Professor.” Mercedes insisted firmly. “I need to be able to give as detailed a report to Manuela as I possibly can so Ashe can receive the best attention possible when we get back to the monastery.

“Is it really that bad?” Byleth asked with worry. When he had seen Ashe carried into the carriage, he had seemed exhausted but fairly stable. However, Mercedes nodded her head.

“I’m afraid so. There’s a lot going wrong in his body that we don’t have the resources here to fix. Manuela will be able to take care of it far better than I can right now, at this rate.” Mercedes had spent more time than Byleth was comfortable with scrounging the room, taking notes on the conditions of the cell, temperature, patterns of bloodstains on the floor, and every other thing Byleth could think of, before finally collecting samples and heading to the carriage. Mercedes’ scrounged items were a sample of mold, a pair of dead insects, a rat, and an array of daggers, one of which was still bloodstained. This was a dagger she was analyzing now, but she quickly shook her head simply and placed aside with the rest.

“What’s the matter, Mercie?” Annette piped up, partially just to break the tense silence. Mercedes shook her head, disappointed. 

“I thought this dagger might have had some clue on it about what’s causing such a severe reaction in Ashe right now. His symptoms are sort of understandable just given his conditions, but I don’t think they should have progressed this rapidly or badly like they have. The fever and exhaustion are understandable, and the infection is self-explanatory given his lack of medical care. But him coughing blood is completely unprecedented and unexplained, and paired with everything else could be disastrous. Unfortunately, all this dagger has on it is blood. No trace of anything else whatsoever.”

The rest of the group looked at the set of items with worry evident in their eyes. 

“Maybe we missed something back at the manor,” Dedue grumbled, “Something to do with a toxin or hidden disease.” Mercedes shook her head. 

“No, I looked over everything. I took everything that could cause an unstable change, and nothing makes sense with Ashe’s symptoms.”

“Hold on a second, Mercedes.” This from Sylvain, who was now looking intently at one of the knives. “Look at this dagger here. The blood’s washed off, but you can still see a weird sheen on the knife. Look at it real close and tell me.”

Mercedes accepted the knife and turned it over, her eyes widening in shock.

“Wow, Sylvain. You’re absolutely right. This sheen…it looks to be like a leftover coating that didn’t wash off straightaway. Let me see…”She flipped through her book with masterful ease, landing spot onto a page denoting all types of poisons. “Here it is…the King’s Poison.” Mercedes gulped at the name, but continued reading. “This poison is siphoned from the body of a venomous beast that often resides in wooded areas. It is easily rejected by the body, so simple contact with the skin will often just lead to a mild illness, but contact below skin can eventually lead to severe complications of the heart and lungs, leading to hemoptysis, or the coughing up of blood.” Mercedes immediately whirled around, crouching down next to Ashe. The healer held two fingers to Ashe’s neck, leaning her ear over Ashe’s mouth. She paused for a couple seconds, then leaned back, relieved. 

“Oh, thank goodness. I read ‘complications of the heart' and got really scared for a moment. Felix,” she gestured to the corner of the carriage where the swordsman was slumped, “could you check Ashe for a pulse every couple of minutes? I need you to make sure he doesn’t slip into a worse condition now that we know what could happen. Annette, please check his breathing alongside Felix.” And with that matter of fact instruction, Mercedes continued poring over her notes until the carriage arrived at the monastery.

*

The first few days in the infirmary were incredibly hectic. Byleth had made no effort to conceal Ashe’s condition as the group marched to Manuela’s office, and by the time the group had arrived they were trailed by 16 other students, Catherine, Shamir, Alois, and Cyril. Suffice to say, when the group appeared in the infirmary, Manuela shooed out the vast majority, only allowing Ashe, Mercedes and Byleth inside. The physician listened calmly to Byleth’s report of what Ashe had been through, as well as Mercedes’ analysis of what was plaguing Ashe, then set her face tightly and turned to Ashe, who was lying in the bed. The boy’s skin was flushed horribly, and to Manuela’s touch it was much dryer and rougher than anything resembling normal. She wasted no time in grabbing a variety of tools from her cabinet. 

“Angelica…Fruit of Life…Ambrosia, White Verona…”she tossed her head back to address Mercedes, “you said the mold was like an Ailell variation, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am” Mercedes nodded her head dutifully. Manuela also nodded her head thoughtfully, and reached for a bottle of White Cethel, an antitoxin named after the saint herself. “Couldn’t hurt to try, either way."

She measured out the ingredients expertly, mixing them together into a balmy paste. Remembering herself, she began pushing Byleth gently out of the room. “This next part is going to be a bit invasive, professor, and I’m sure you have a report to write up. Please, leave the healing to me.”

And just like that, Byleth had been kicked out of the infirmary for the day.

The next day had been better for just about everyone except Byleth. After getting grilled by Seteth and Rhea for leaving on a completely expedition than the one he had told them he was leaving for, he went by to check on Ashe once again. The results of Manuela’s labors were astounding. The boy’s fever had broken somewhat, though sweat was now pouring from his body, and it was clear Mercedes had her hands full trying to keep him hydrated. His shoulder was wrapped in gauze, but it appeared less swollen to the professor. And his skin seemed closer to its usual color. As he noticed the professor walk in, Ashe immediately tried sitting up from the bed, but the strength required and pain being inflicted took its toll before he could even sit up all the way and he fell back with a faint cry, sweating even more than before. 

“Professor.”

Byleth turned to see Manuela standing behind him, her arms crossed and a look of unspeakable annoyance on her face. 

“I understand you want to see your student, I really do. But there’s a reason I didn’t tell you his fever was broken. He’s spent every waking moment since he woke up trying to tell me about secrets and counts and all the whatnot you could think of, and hasn’t gotten an ounce of rest in doing so. She placed a hand on Byleth’s chest, now much more forcefully than she had before.  
“I hate to do this to you, but you are hereby barred from the infirmary until I say otherwise. Now, go.”

And now, for the second time, Byleth had been kicked out of the infirmary.

Now the professor was poring over his notes, with Dimitri in his study trying to help.

“It can’t be helped, Dimitri. With Ashe out of the picture until further notice, we’ll be understaffed handling Miklan’s band. We’ll have no choice but to pull from other classes.” Dimitri tilted his head questioningly, peering over to his professor.

“Other classes? Have you gotten anyone offering to take this mission alongside us?”

“More than that, actually.” He spread out four separate letters across the table, two with Eagle insignias and two with a sign embodying a Deer. “I’ve gotten formal requests to join my class. Dorothea, Caspar, Ignatz, and Marianne have all asked to join, but I hadn’t been sure if it was a good idea until now.” The professor leaned his chair back, letting out a long breath through his nose. “Problem is, I have no idea who to recruit.”  
Dimitri picked up the letters.

“Well, Ignatz certainly could mirror Ashe’s fighting style well enough. The two are proficient enough with a bow, as I remember.” He smiled now, singling one out and laying it before Byleth. The professor stared with some amount of confusion at the sloppy handwriting underneath a red stamp of approval from Manuela. “However, if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, I think I saw one of our students bonding over a family of cats with Caspar. It might lift his spirits in the near future to have him as a close ally…when he’s done recovering, of course.”

Byleth nodded now, understanding reaching his eyes. “Understood. I’ll approach Manuela about it once she’s…”

“Once she’s done slaving over the student you nearly got killed?” 

Byleth started at the sudden entrance of Manuela, and her words triggered a memory she couldn’t possibly know about. He briefly felt a pang of shame and horror remembering the sight of his own student, staring at him in confusion and pain as a wound opened up across his throat, and Annette’s scream as he crumpled to the ground. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. In truth, he had nearly ruined things a second time by punching the count in the face instead of speaking his line, but restrained himself for Ashe’s sake.

Manuela saw the pain in the professor’s eyes and, understanding the emotion, if not the reason behind it, softened her eyes and tone. “It’s all right, professor. Ashe will pull through just fine. Here,” she said, pulling out a thick stack of papers, “is my report and diagnosis. You’re likely well aware that he is not to be partaking in this month’s mission, and he won’t be leaving his bed until the end of the week at least. He can start training everything except his shoulder starting the beginning of next month, and I’ve included therapy training for Mercedes to walk him through in the meantime. If you need anything else, don’t be afraid to call…once our house is done with our mission, of course.”

“Your mission?” Dimitri placed a hand on his chin. “What are the Black Eagles doing this month?”

“Surprise from Lady Rhea,” Manuela said, winking, “We’re to track down some corrupt Kingdom noble who fled to the Empire after kidnapping a young boy and holding him as ransom for the Kingdom Relics. Sound familiar?” 

Byleth shook his head “You shouldn’t have to get involved in business centered around our house, Manuela. Maybe we could-“

“Have to?” Manuela’s eyebrows raised at the word. “Professor, you misunderstand. I want to do this. That jerk cost me two nights’ sleep and a date with a particularly handsome knight. Besides,” her face slipped from teasing overconfidence to somber reality. “it took every bit of knowledge I had to keep him along. Ashe is a good kid, but finding yourself facing death for the first time…it changes someone. I want to do this for his sake. We can’t lose these children, professor, to either death or fear. That’s why I’ll make it my business.” She glanced down and noticed the paper clutched in Byleth’s hand.

“Oh, Caspar? I was wondering if he really wanted to go through with being in your class, but he was so enthusiastic, I couldn’t say no. You thinking of letting him join?” Byleth shifted uncomfortably 

“Uh…yes. This month actually, but I know it could inconvenience-“ 

“Oh, nonsense.” Manuela waved her hand. “the Black Eagles are far more capable than you pretend, professor. We’ll be just fine down a man or two. Take whoever you need.” As she walked out of the room, she turned briefly and looked over her shoulder. “By the way, feel free to let your students in to see Ashe, one or two at a time, I’m sure it’ll do them all some good.”

*

Ashe studied his shoulder. Really, it was all he really had to study. Over the course of the week it had shrunk into something resembling normal, though it was definitely still sore. The toxin from the count’s dagger had damaged muscle and underlying tissue alongside the skin, so it was definitely going to take a while to get back in shape. He rested back against the bed, waiting for Manuela to give him leave from the infirmary. The past few days had been comparative heaven to the previous week. The professor had dropped by to discuss Ashe’s course of study and how best to study without practical training, and Ashe felt that he was slowly beginning to get the hang of things. Of course, Annette and Ingrid had come in to help as well: Annette’s father had apparently been an expert in the axe, and Ingrid was more than willing to teach Ashe flight theory. Dimitri, formal as always had come to update Ashe as to the situation regarding the count. Apparently the Black Eagles would head out for their mission and handle the problem immediately.

“You needn’t worry about a thing, Ashe,” the prince said warmly. “I have upmost confidence in Edelgard and her ability to lead the Black Eagles. They’ll take care of the count with no issue.”

Mercedes and Dedue had come by with sweets and well cooked meals, though they hardly needed to trouble themselves; apparently, Dimitri had let slip some of the details of Ashe’s imprisonment and Raphael had nearly assaulted Ashe with as much food as he possibly could. Even Felix had come by and -rather uncomfortably- read Ashe excerpts from “The Tales of Kyphon”. Sylvain came by every day to check on Ashe’s condition, and making sure everything was all right.

“Poison is a nasty business, Ashe.” He had mentioned. “Let me tell you, from somebody who’s been on the receiving end of a lot of different attempts…be careful until this guy is nabbed, will ya?”

Finally, Manuela made her way in, carting in a wheelchair, with Dimitri close behind. The wheelchair was far from necessary, but it was customary for the infirmary and the physician had decided Ashe had been through well enough to deserve it. Dimitri effortlessly scooped Ashe up in his arms, placing him gently into the wheelchair

“That’s not exactly proper wheelchair ettiquete…oh, nevermind, I’m sure it’s harmless.” Manuela shook her head. “Just make sure he makes it back to his room all right.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Ashe protested. “Prince Dimitri, I can’t have you do this. For a prince like you to be relegated to pushing me around is-“

“Ashe please.” The voice was soft, but chiding. “Do you truly wish to spend this time arguing? I’m sure you want to be back with everyone else.”

Ashe grumbled something under his breath, but let the prince continue pushing him down to the main floor of the monastery. Except, instead of the dormitory, the prince was wheeling him in the opposite direction.

“Your Highness?”

The prince remained silent, wheeling Ashe past the courtyards into the dining hall.

“Your Highness, please, I’m not hungry. I-“

“SURPRISE!”

The room lit up in a blaze of candles and torches filling the hall as the students of Garreg Mach Monastery jumped from behind tables, pillars, and doors, each beaming with pure joy. Ashe took an astounded moment to look around the room. It seemed every student from each of the houses had made it into attendance. Had they really-

His thoughts were interrupted as the 8 leading members of the Golden Deer ran up to him.

“You’re filling out nicely, Ashe! Must have been all that meat I slipped you!”

“I…I thank the goddess that you’re safe…”

“Words can’t describe how worried we all were. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”

“You’re…okay right, aren’t you? They didn’t mess with anything internally?”

“Lysithea, that’s a bit of a probing question, isn’t it? I’m just happy our dear Ashe is safe and sound.”

“Truly, any noble complicit in this is unfit to be seen as human. I wish the Golden Deer were deployed for this mission instead, honestly.”

“Relax, Lorenz. I’m sure any noble who would do such a thing would take one look at you and…well, probably be too busy laughing to put up a fight.”

“Cut it out, you two, this isn’t about your silly rivalry. We’re here for the Blue Lions, remember?”

The Black Eagles were next, and Caspar ran up to him first with excitement. 

“Hey, Ashe,” he whispered excitedly, “Rumor has it the professor’s gonna let me into your class. Is that cool or what?! Er, well,” he was scratching his head now. “I was kinda hoping to get back at the guy who did this. But I’m sure everyone else will do that just fine.”

“You bet! I’ll find the guy who did this to Ashie and-“

“Ashie…?” The thought was interrupted by a loud yawn. “Sure, I’ll help, but isn’t that nickname a little silly?”

“I-I just can’t even imagine being held like that. I mean, my father was terrible, but even he had his limits…er, sometimes?”

“I cannot imagine anyone with honor doing the taking of the hostages. For someone to do as such is to be frowning-er, that is, frowned upon.”

“More than frowned upon. Actions like these must be punished by anyone pretending to be noble.”

“Is that your only motivation? How boring. Perhaps you would be better suited cheering on from the sidelines like a noble as well.”

Edelgard shook her head. “Regardless of status, I think we can all agree Count Graftel’s actions deserve due punishment. And I promise you, Ashe, he will answer for everything he’s done for you.”  
Ashe ducked his head, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed. Dimitri nodded his head.

“Indeed. However, discussing punishment isn’t why we’re here. If you please?”

At the prince’s call, the head chefs of the monastery walked from the kitchen, toting a massive cake cut out and colored in the form of…well, a Blue Lion. Written out in white letters were the words “Get well soon, Ashe!” All around the cake were spelled initials of all the major house members of the three houses, and the group gathered around Ashe as the cake was placed on the table in front of him. Dimitri took a spoon and glass, making to clink them together as to make a toast. Unfortunately, the spoon easily shattered the glass, earning a peal of laughter from Sylvain and a few other members of the houses. The prince coughed in embarrassment.

“Friends, I thank you all for coming here tonight. Surely, by now you all know that these past two weeks have been very trying for one of our members,” he said motioning to Ashe, “and that he has suffered greatly as a result. But this is not meant to be a party of pity or concern, or even well-wishing.” He turned towards Ashe now, pride gleaming in his eyes. “From the reports we received from captured soldiers in our attack, we learned that Ashe was every example of a steadfast knight as he endured his torment. In his stay, he never begged for mercy, acted a craven, or cursed his attackers. He endured torment after torment with a calm mind and steady heart, and never gave in to any inclination to act a craven or act against us. His bravery was unspeakable, and fortitude admirable.”

By this point Ashe wanted to die of embarrassment. 

“I want to take this time to celebrate such conviction, as well as ask something to you, Ashe.” He knelt down, now eye level to the boy. “Never, ever, think of your life as lesser or worthless because of your past. We all stand here, knowing who you are, and who you were, and commend you all the same. Promise me you’ll look at yourself with that same pride.”

Ashe took a moment to look around the room. Everyone seemed to look at him, and nobody had pity or doubt in their eyes. Felix was scowling at Dimitri’s praise of Ashe’s knightworthy characteristics, but otherwise, the room was full of support. Ashe took a deep breath, taking it all in. Perhaps, Dimitri had a point, he decided. Perhaps he had more room to grow than he thought. With a twinge of discomfort, he decided to try and take one step. Just one, small, maybe not even permanent step.

“I promise…Dimitri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever just...find yourself unable to stop writing? Yeah, that happened. Sorry, it just kinda came tumbling out once I started. Hope you all enjoyed this fic. Don't know if I have plans for the near future, so here goes!


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